


from death

by Anxiety_Elemental



Series: McGenji Week 2019 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Elemental/pseuds/Anxiety_Elemental
Summary: Asking the angry, maladjusted cyborg to punch him is probably a bad idea.But desperate times, right?Prompt: Desperate times call for desperate measures





	from death

**Author's Note:**

> The subtitle for this fic could pretty much be: Making Friends Is Hard
> 
> Warnings include canon typical violence.

“Hey Shimada, some of us are gonna play frisbee out in the courtyard, wanna tag along?”

Shimada glares venom, as if Jesse had spat out the worst possible insult about his mother.

“Frisbee,” Shimada says in a monotone, “Like schoolchildren.”

McCree shrugs, “Well... yeah?” he says, “It’s pretty much just running around and working out some stress. Thought you might want to join?”

“Do you really expect me to play a children’s game with you?” Shimada says.

“Well, it’ll be a bunch of other agents too,” Jesse points out, though in hindsight it was probably a bad idea altogether asking Shimada to join a large group, “Just figured, since we’re not up for a mission soon, we got some free time.”

“We are weapons of war,” Shimada hisses, and Jesse winces at the turns of phrase, “If we are not on a mission we should be preparing for the next one.”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Jesse says, “But I clock out sometimes.”

There’s not much of Shimada’s expression left, what with the mask, but the look in his eyes is wild and terrible, like a caged animal.

“I do not have that luxury,” Shimada growls, “Do not bother me with trivial nonsense again.”

He turns on his heel and stomps away, leaving Jesse feeling like he had a close brush with death.

Angela had asked him to try to make nice with Shimada, but this was pretty much how Jesse expected things to go. He knows Reyes expects them to get along too, as once Shimada’s cleared for combat they’ll be working together.

He doesn’t have the slightest idea how to do any of that.

And idea one didn’t work out so well.

\---

“Hey Shimada, wanna watch a movie?”

This time Shimada’s glare is slightly less poisonous, but it’s still a piercing, red-eyed, angry stare.

“Lounge is empty right now, should be for a couple more hours,” Jesse adds, hoping that will help, “Wanna watch something? You can pick.”

Shimada doesn’t even give him an answer, just a scoff and walks away again.

When he met first Genji in that bar in Hanamura - and he’d been Genji then, not Shimada - he’d been mischievous and playful, not this angry, brooding person he knows now. Sure, next day Genji had pointed a knife at him, but he _had_ found the bug Jesse had put in his phone, so it wasn’t like it was over nothing. He could forgive a man for being angry about being spied on.

He’s got a lot more to be angry about now, to be fair.

So number two didn’t work either.

\---

“Hey Shimada, wanna spar?”

Shimada glares at him again, but it lacks heat, it’s more curious, a predator’s stare.

He’s got his attention.

“We haven’t had a chance in training proper,” Jesse adds, “Thought we could head to the gym and give it a go. What you think?”

“You are a fool,” Shimada says. Which isn’t really an answer.

“Gonna need something a bit more concrete,” Jesse says, “You up for it?”

“Yes,” Shimada says, and walks away again, which confuses Jesse for a moment, before his brain catches up and realizes Shimada is heading for the training area. He runs to catch up.

Asking the angry, maladjusted cyborg to punch him is probably a bad idea.

But desperate times, right?

Unfortunately, things go about as well for him as he expected.

As soon as Jesse says “Go,” Shimada is a blur of rage and metal. They’re fighting hand-to-hand, no weapons, but Shimada’s new body is a weapon, which Jesse hadn’t taken into account. Like a dumbass.

Fortunately, all Overwatch agents also receive training for fighting omincs, including hand-to-hand. Which is never ideal, punching metal generally isn’t, but there are some weaknesses to exploit.

He kicks at the back of Shimada’s knees, grapples at exposed wires, uses every dirty trick he can think of. It only seems to make Shimada angrier, his attacks becoming more wild and unpredictable.

Never having seen Shimada’s fighting style before, he lasts longer than he thought he would. It still ends pretty much how he expected: nose bleeding, pinned to the mat on his belly, one arm wrenched behind his back at a painful angle, and Shimada’s knees pressed down into his back.

“You got me,” Jesse wheezes, tapping the mat. Shimada eases off quickly, the crushing weight disappearing. Jesse rolls onto his back, and wipes his bloody nose.

“You were not completely terrible,” Shimada says, and to Jesse’s shock, he holds out a hand.

Jesse stares at it. This is the closest to kindness he’s ever seen from Shimada, not sure if this is some kind of trick. He gives Shimada a suspicious look.

Shimada backs away, shrinking like he’d been struck, and leaves, nearly running away.

\---

“Hey Shimada, can you hear me?”

Shimada stares at him, brown eyes blank without the familiar red glow. Shit, maybe he can’t even see Jesse right now either.

They’re almost at the safe house, stolen car abandoned a few blocks away, Jesse now running through side streets. The EMP blast had fried his comms and Shimada. The only thing he can still seem to move is his one human arm, which is clinging to Jesse’s serape with a death grip.

Shimada keeps making pained wheezing sounds, shallow gasps like he’s drowning.

“We’re almost there,” Jesse says, carrying Shimada in his arms. Even if Shimada can’t hear him he’s going to keep talking, for his own nerves if nothing else, “Stay with me.”

Jesse nearly kicks the safe house door in, rushing right inside. There’s no time for a proper security sweep, he has no idea how much time Shimada has, and goes straight for the cabinets where they stock medical supplies. Shimada don’t seem to want to let go of him, and Jesse’s not about to force him, but that makes it harder to dig around in the supply closet. He adjusts his grip, Shimada's head leaning against Jesse's shoulder, freeing up his right arm, and fumbles through the cabinet with one hand. Biotic canisters and capsules of painkillers aren’t going to help here, there much be something -

Tucked away on the back of a lower shelf he finds something that looks like an old-timey car battery. A rectangular brick of a thing, with four ports, two marked with black circles, two with red. Attached to one side is a laminated diagram, showing Shimada’s head, the battery, and how to connect the wires.

“I think I found something,” Jesse says, grunting as he drags the heavy thing off the shelf, “Looks like an external battery just for you. Hang on, I only kinda know what I’m doing.”

He lays Shimada down on the floor, but his hand is still gripping his serape, pulling him down with him. Jesse curses, and puts his hand on Shimada’s intending to try to pry him off. But Shimada’s hand immediately latches onto his, his grip nearly crushing his fingers.

“Hey, careful there,” Jesse says, unsure. He had no idea what’s going on in Shimada’s head right now, but the poor guy probably can’t see, hear, or feel anything beyond the one hand. He figures Shimada ain’t looking for pity, and Jesse has no intention of doing so. The rubs his thumb across Shimada’s knuckles, and he relaxes somewhat. He repeats the motion, gloved hand across bare skin, but Shimada is still making alarming noises, he needs to use the battery now.

He shifts to Shimada’s head is in his lap, the battery by his knee. If he’s not going to let go this is the best setup. “I’m gonna plug you into the battery now,” Jesse says, picking up a black wire, “Hope this don’t hurt.”

As he plugs in the wire Shimada’s whole body spasms. Jesse curses, but keeps going, plugging in the remaining three wires. Shimada’s breathing begins to ease, and he relaxes. His grip on Jesse’s hand does not waver, still clinging as if it’s the only thing keeping him alive, desperate and shaking.

Jesse uses his free land to draw his gun, setting it in his lap so he can reach it more easily. If needed.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, taking Shimada’s hand in both of his, as they sit quietly, waiting for help to arrive.

\---

Later, Reyes finds them in the safe house, and Jesse does not miss the moment where Reyes’ expression softens for the barest moment, before his usual frown returns. He leads them back to their emergency extraction point. Jesse has to carry Shimada and the battery, both dead weights in his arms. Jesse narrates everything that’s happening to Shimada as they evacuate: leaving the safe house, boarding the plane, take off, the flight there. He still has no idea if Shimada can hear him or not. His grip on Jesse’s hand doesn’t slacken, and Jesse has no intention of letting go. Reyes doesn’t comment on any of it.

When they land back at base, Angela is waiting on the tarmac with the regular debrief crew. Shimada’s hand needs to be pried from Jesse’s, then he's placed on a gurney and wheeled away.

Reyes debriefs Jesse, then he writes up his mission report, goes back to his room, and doesn’t sleep.

\---

Some days later, there is a knock on his door.

Shimada looks surprised when Jesse’s door slides open. Jesse raises his eyebrows, “Looking for something?” he asks, for lack of something better to say.

“I...” Shimada clears his throat, “Wish to speak with you. About our last mission.”

Jesse stands aside and let’s Shimada into the room, and the door slides shut behind him. Shimada ends up standing in the middle of the room, looking around at Jesse’s things strewn about, suddenly looking lost.

“Sorry about the mess,” Jesse says, noting the clothes he’s left scattered about everywhere. He hopes Shimada ain’t gonna mind the shirts and underwear on the floor. “You feeling better?” Jesse asks.

“Yes,” Shimada says. Jesse spots Shimada’s left hand twitch, and he remembers the desperate hold on his own hand, holding him close as if he was about to fade away.

“You had something to say or...?” Jesse prompts, trying to distract himself from the memory.

Shimada startles, “If you tell anyone about what happened, I’ll kill you,” Shimada says. Except he says it like he’s reading a grocery list, detached and without any real bite. Well, if saying it makes Shimada feel better about what happened, then Jesse won’t take it away from him.

“Won’t tell a soul,” Jesse says, putting a hand on his heart, “Scout’s honor.”

“...That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Shimada says, suspiciously.

“Means my lips are sealed,” Jesse clarifies.

“Good,” Shimada says. Then seems lost, looking around the room, as if looking for something, rather than at Jesse. Jesse isn’t sure where to go from here.

“Well,” he tries, “Take care of yourself out there.”

Shimada nods, apparently grateful for the out, and leaves. Jesse hopes this means they’ll get along from now on.


End file.
